The struggle between spirit and flesh is great, Father of lights, between self-will and your purpose, for it caused drops of sweat as blood on the brow of my Savior.
The battle seems most fierce at the end, as it was for him.
The moment of truth, in the dark, alone.
Alone but for the dew from heaven upon the ground, but for your ear to welcome a plea for delivery and a choice to follow your will.
Raise me up, Lord, from the soil of pain and turmoil, that I may go steadily to suffer for your name.
Because that is the way my Savior went.